Masterpiece
by iwasamy
Summary: We Heart It contest first place winner. Jasper is searching for something to complete his home. His life. Can he find it in an artist's canvas or is he looking for more than a work of art? AH. Slash.


**For my wonderful beta, harrytwifan. Without you I would have given up at 1000 words.**

Masterpiece

JPOV

If I had been to one of these things, I'd been to a hundred. These opening nights were all the same; champagne on ice, silver platters of fucking tiny morsels of food, pretentious critics and conceited journalists, artists soaking up compliments and congratulations, feigning modesty. And me.

I was always out of place in these galleries, my ripped jeans and worn t-shirts a far cry from the power suits and wing-tips surrounding me. I tired to slink into the background, go unnoticed and unobserved but I knew I stuck out. I came because I was searching for something and I wasn't going to let my crippling discomfort and diffidence get in my way. Alice had always been great at getting me passes to her gallery's exhibitions and events, especially when new artists were showing. Having a curator as a best friend was pretty beneficial now that I was in the market for a piece of art. I wanted to really get a feel for each artist and consequently chose to attend as many openings as I could. The buzz was always better. Always more real.

Walking from room to room of Alice's charming gallery, my shoulders curled inwards and my hands shoved deeply in my pockets, I found myself immersed in a different kind of art than I'd ever experienced. Art that I couldn't interpret and that I would never understand. My knowledge of art in general was fairly basic; I knew an oil painting from a charcoal illustration and I knew something I liked from something I didn't. I'd been told often, when Alice would decide to impart her worldly wisdom on me, that you should never buy art that didn't move you in one way or another. It could inspire passion or fear, evoke memories or nightmares. You could love it or hate it. But if you were indifferent, you weren't meant for it. That's what I was looking for.

I had been roaming from gallery to gallery, museum to museum, scouring the city in search of the piece of art that would complete my home. I didn't know what I was looking for but that didn't stop me seeking it all the same. I had a blank wall in my apartment, massive and cold and was searching for something to fill it, to cover it. I wanted to walk into my home and feel some emotion. Disgust or admiration. Hope or despair. Anything other than the nothingness I'd been feeling for too long now. I was tired of being numb and void and figured if I could begin to change myself anywhere it would be in my home.

My life had fallen apart after _he_ had decided he'd grown tired of me. He'd fucking chewed me up and spat me out, leaving me empty and broken. I was determined to pull myself back together and move on and had bought a new apartment, found a new job and left behind every single one of my so called friends who knew exactly what was going on behind my back and didn't once think to fucking mention it to me. My confidence had been shattered and through my relationship with him I had lost sight of the boy I used to be. I had grown into a hard, cynical man and I was desperate now to get the old me back: fun, confident and excited about life. I knew it didn't make a whole lot of sense but I had grown obsessed with finishing my home and at least having one place where I could feel like myself again. And this last blank wall continued to mock me every time I walked through my front door. I was determined to find something to fill it.

When Alice had told me of the opening show of a local installation artist I was intrigued to see what it would involve and had accepted her invitation. The old me would have turned and left when I saw the first pieces, knowing that they would never fit in my home. My life. I didn't understand the meaning behind the installations. I couldn't even pretend to see the art in them or comprehend why there were rooms of strip lighting illuminating huge canvases or masses of paper lanterns glowing softly over enormous charcoal compositions. But something shifted inside of me when I walked the expanse of each piece, appraising and learning. When I studied the craftsmanship of each section of lighting, created, soldered and positioned just so to burn softly or brightly over the artists paintings, something inside of me burst to life. I felt a pull towards these pieces that I had never encountered before and my whole body seemed to tingle in anticipation of something. Something here was meant for me. I could feel it.

My heart thundered in my chest as I realized I was closer than ever to finding what I was looking for. What I had been missing. My blood was rushing in my veins and I took a second to close my eyes and relish in the feelings of excitement and hope flooding me. I breathed deeply, appreciating an emotional response to something for the first time in months. When I opened my eyes again, slowly, adjusting to the brightly lit room, they flitted from person to person, over designer suits and bad dye jobs, until they fell upon a sight that made my heart stutter and skip a beat.

Hidden in the corner of the room, draining a beer, and rubbing nervously at the back of his neck stood a man who looked about as uncomfortable as I felt; grey dress pants were creased and coupled with a fitted white shirt, untucked, sleeves pushed up to the elbows and buttons haphazardly missed at the neckline. He was fucking beautiful; handsome and masculine, his sharp features and long, lean frame immediately drawing and holding my attention. His hair was a shock of bronze, wild and unruly, and his eyes were the most striking green I had ever seen. Even from across the room I could see the brightness shining in them. They looked alive and burned with a passion I could only dream of feeling.

I followed the line of his strong jaw, barely dusted with light stubble, to the pale expanse of the skin of his throat. I watched him gulp from his bottle, his full, pink lips wrapped around the neck. Fuck.

Raising my eyes to take in the whole of his face I flushed as his fiery eyes locked onto mine and he raised a cocky eyebrow at me, smirking confidently. My cheeks burned and my heart raced in embarrassment and I ducked my head as a busty blonde slid before him, averting his attention and blocking my line of sight.

I hadn't noticed anyone in months. My self worth was fucking nil and I felt that I had so little to offer that I shouldn't even bother trying to get close to someone again. Yet now, it was all I could do to keep myself from going to him. My skin flushed and tingled as I looked up to see his eyes trail slowly over my body, not paying attention to the blonde still chattering in his ear, her claws digging into his arm possessively. He caught my eye with a smirk and rolled his eyes at the inane chattering of the blonde before addressing her again. I chuckled softly to myself, my face hot from his attention before lowering my eyes to the ground.

The gallery was bustling as the evening grew older and I eventually found my way over to the crowded bar, leaning my elbows on the smooth surface and scrubbing my sticky palms over my face. I wasn't used to feeling like this; lustful, longing, sanguine, and I couldn't keep a hold of all the feelings soaring through me. It was unexpected and exciting. It was almost too much. Almost.

Ordering a much needed beer I dug my hand into my jeans to find my wallet when my skin erupted in goosebumps. A long arm, hands black and blue with paint embedded in the creases and under the fingernails, a thong of leather wrapped around the pale wrist, squeezed by me to place an empty bottle on the bar.

"Let me get that for you," a silky voice, deep and potent, sounded from behind me, causing my body to shiver uncontrollably. I turned my head to see the man from before standing just inches from me, the heat of his body trailing deliciously over my back. I met his green eyes and nodded in acknowledgement, unable to speak and unwilling to move. He held up two fingers to the barmaid and mouthed that this was on him. The girl barely batted an eyelash as she passed him two beers without taking payment. He turned and walked from the bar to the edge of the room, away from the crowd. I followed him wordlessly, my feet seeming to move on their own accord as a force as strong as gravity pulled me after him.

"Thanks man." I smiled shyly, not yet meeting his eyes and feeling my cheeks burn hotter with every second, as he passed me the bottle.

"No problem." He shrugged, grinning cheerfully at me. "You enjoying the show?"

I could lie and tell him I could appreciate everything, every aspect, of these pieces of art, try to impress him with the very little insight I had and hope I'd heard enough inane chatter from the people around me to pull it off or I could tell him the truth and hope to God he wouldn't hold my lack of knowledge against me. I didn't think I had the coherency around him to pull off a believable lie.

"Yeah, I really am. There's certainly something about this stuff. I feel kinda drawn to it, y'know? I don't really know anything about art, or these installations or anything. But I do know what I like. I like this." I nodded stupidly at the gallery before me. "Are you enjoying it?" I tried to keep my voice smooth, keep the nerves from making my words crack and lilt. I must have failed because his eyes lit up in amusement as soon as the words left my mouth.

"It's been a long time in the making." He ducked his head and blushed beautifully, the cockiness gone and a genuine modesty making his cheeks pink. "It's taken a lot of hard work to get here but yeah, I'm happy with how everything's turned out."

Shit. The free beer, the paint on his hands and fingers. "This is your show." I stated rather than asked.

He nodded, still smiling softly and looking towards his feet. He really was stunning.

"Your work is really great. I'm not going to pretend to understand it but something about it speaks to me. It's beautiful. Everyone seems to be liking it."

"These people," he paused and looked around the crowded room "are not my kinds of people. They're critics and art journalists, just in it for the cash. They'll chew you up and spit you out if they don't like what they see. Or they'll rocket you to fame and fortune in days." He laughed sardonically. "I don't give a shit about them. I just wanted to show the world my work and sell a few of my pieces. I can't move in my fucking house for boxes of light bulbs." He laughed, looking up and meeting my eyes. His smile tugged one side of his mouth up slightly, crooked and fucking perfect.

I nodded in understanding. I guess he could tell these weren't my kinds of people either.

"What are you here for?" His eyes never left mine and I took a large gulp of beer as an excuse to break our eye contact, the feeling of my heart spluttering and soaring too much to take.

"I guess I'm looking for something." He raised an eyebrow at me in question so I went on. "I've moved into a new place and its pretty bland. I've been coming to shows at this gallery for a few months just trying to find something to fill the space."

"And you like what you see here?" He questioned, intensity and curiosity glowing in his bright eyes.

"Yeah. More than anything else I've seen. But these pieces are way too complex for my place." I chuckled nervously, instantly wishing there was some way of getting a piece of his art work in my home.

"I could make something for you. Something smaller? Or I could show you some of my other work." His grin was tugging at his lips and he looked truly gorgeous. "Here," he fished out a card from his back pocket and handed it to me. "I'm Edward, these are my details. Have a think about what you'd like and what you could fit and call me or drop by my place sometime. I'm sure you'll see something you like." His suggestive tone and teasing smirk made my blush deepen on my cheeks. I wasn't used to people being forward with me, flirting, joking. I wasn't used to enjoying it.

"Jasper Whitlock." I took his card and offered my hand to shake. As our fingers grasped and our palms locked I felt a jolt of electricity run through my whole body. His eyes bore into mine and the hunger I could see there had me fucking growing in my jeans. "I will." I decided to be bold, like the old me, and told myself I would at least call him. I smiled up at him as he released my hand though I felt the loss of his touch immediately.

"I need to get back to mingling man but it was good to meet you. I'll see you around?" Edward smiled warmly at me and moved to walk away.

"Yeah, uh sure." I was kind of fucking dazzled that this man, this beautiful, talented man seemed to want to see me again. Maybe he just really wanted to sell his art? I watched his form as he walked away and was suddenly glad my I wore my jeans loose.

I wandered around the show a little while longer, kind of in a daze, but taking more notice in the craftsmanship of the work, the colors used and the skill required to complete these massive pieces. Knowing they were Edward's work somehow made them more alive. Like him, they glowed with a passion, burning and bold. Edward was the opposite of me. Where I was numb and lifeless he was alive, expressive, vehement. So much so that he could project it into his work. I was lucky if I could wake up in the morning with enough energy to drive to work, let alone actually put my mind to the asinine tasks I was doing.

When I got home late that evening my apartment seemed colder and barer than usual. Taunting me with what could be. I'd tried to bring as much of my own personality to the rooms as possible, adding bits of decoration and color here and there but the last huge, bare, white wall was staring me in the face as soon as I opened my front door. The thought of having something that Edward had painted on my wall, something that he had spent time on and put effort and thought and hard work into made my insides fucking flutter. What I wouldn't give to come home to a piece of that magnificent man, even just a reminder of him in his beautiful art on my wall.

I shrugged out of my clothes in my bedroom, taking Edward's business card out of my pocket and laying it on my dresser before jumping into a scalding shower. My mind was racing with thoughts of Edward, how it had felt when he touched me, how my body had reacted to his gaze on mine. I felt myself growing hard as I remembered how his long, lean body had felt just inches from mine at the bar and how his sweet breath had washed over my neck as he spoke from behind me.

Grabbing my shower wash, I lathered my palms up and moved them slowly down my body. I was hard and already aching for release. The throbbing, purple head of my dick was already dripping with precum and when I wrapped my fist around myself I couldn't help but groan at the sensation. I closed my eyes and pumped myself slowly from base to tip, imagining Edward's paint stained hands replacing my own. My breathing hitched as I imagined his soft, full lips parting and taking my dick in between them. In seconds I was fucking my fist with abandon, flicking my thumb over the head every few passes. My other hand trailed down to my balls, tugging and squeezing deliciously.

My eyes scrunched tightly together and before I even felt it building I was coming in thick white spurts over my hands and onto the shower stall floor. I leaned my head against the cold tile and caught my breath, amazed that I'd come so quickly and astounded at the intensity and force of my orgasm. My sex drive had been almost non-existent in the past few months, I could count on one hand the number of times I'd jacked off and knew that never had it felt so good.

Staggering out of the shower and drying off I grabbed Edward's card from my dresser and climbed into bed, the sheets feeling wonderful against the heated flesh of my tired body. I turned the card over in my hands feeling the smooth raised lettering under my fingertips.

I wanted to pick up the phone and call him then and there, just to hear the soft, masculine timbre of his voice and feel my heart race as he spoke to me. But instead I just sighed, tired and spent and back to my reserved usual self. I placed the card on my bedside table, turned off the lamp and curled up to sleep.

The next few days were loathsome. I was working non-stop and sleeping every second I wasn't required at the office. The minutes dragged by each day and the tedious mountains of paperwork didn't distract my mind from wandering to Edward every chance it got. I would find myself in the cafeteria with a hard on after thinking too closely about the way his white shirt had stretched over his strong shoulders or would be sitting at my desk, typing mindlessly, as I imagined Edward hard at work, soldering metal, sweating back and heaving chest.

I made up my mind after the second day of ceaseless fantasies to take a chance for once and fucking live my life. I was going to measure that God damn wall and go to Edward's loft to get something made for it. I was sick of letting my past mistakes ruin my life and was ready to start living again. And whether that meant buying a piece of art from a gorgeous boy and flirting a little in the process, or more, it didn't matter as long as I was doing something.

After being numb for so long, I was ready to start feeling again. And if the lust and longing I'd been experiencing since I met Edward were any indication I knew just how to do it. I resigned myself to another night of fitful sleep and a raging case of blue balls in the morning and closed my eyes, tossing and turning almost immediately. When I awoke the next day it was with a tired body but a willing mind. I didn't feel confidence, but at least ambition. I took the measurements of my wall and pulled on an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I grabbed Edwards card, my keys and my iPod for the cab ride. Waiting on the front porch for my taxi, I dragged on a cigarette, bouncing my knee and thrumming my fingers against the nerves bubbling up inside me.

Pulling up to a large building I was surprised to see his house was not a house at all. It looked like an old factory with rugged masonry and heavy doors. When I walked up to the front door and pressed the buzzer my stomach twisted sickeningly and my palms began sweating as I waited for Edward to answer.

"Yeah?" came the static reply over the intercom system. Even through static and buzzing my body reacted to the sound of his voice, straining uncomfortably.

"Uh, Edward? It's Jasper. We met a few days ago at your show? You said I should stop by sometime. Well, uh, this is me…stopping by." I finished lamely, shaking my head at myself. Fucking idiot.

I heard him chuckle over the system and the door buzz open. "Come on up, Jasper."

I sighed a breath of relief and followed the entryway to a large set of industrial lifts. I lifted the cage door and stepped in, wiping my hands on my jeans and straightening my shoulders against my nerves. As I pulled up the cage at the next floor I was greeted by Edward, wiping his hands on a stained rag and grinning happily at me. My heart stopped at the sight of him and my mouth fell open. He had on tight jeans that sat low on his hips, his chest and feet were bare and seemed to be splattered in blue and green paint. As I looked at him more closely I could see that all of him was splattered in paint, a gold smudge streaked across his forehead, his arms and chest were covered in paint marks, large and small, in an array of colors. His hands and fingers were covered, despite trying to wipe them off.

He looked alert and happy, smiling openly at me as I moved towards him. I smiled back shyly, unsure of what to expect from him and hoping like hell that he'd take the lead in this.

"I'm sorry to interrupt." I nodded towards his hands and blushed slightly at the thought of disturbing him as he worked.

"Don't worry about it, Jasper. I'm glad you came." The sincerity in his voice nearly floored me. And the way my name rolled off his tongue was enough to have me hard and throbbing, uncomfortable, in my jeans. "Come on through."

I followed him into his loft and let my eyes wander, taking in my surroundings as we moved from the entryway to a massive room. His loft was enormous. It was one massive open plan room with slouchy, comfortable looking sofas and a small TV at one end, a kitchen and dining bar next to it, a bed partially hidden behind a sheer curtain at the other end and art supplies of every type imaginable in between. I could see what he meant about running out of space. It was as though he had moved into an old factory and made it into a studio and decided he might as well live there too. The walls were raw brick, art hung everywhere, and the floors were a dark, worn wood, splattered with paint and ink.

"This was what I was working on." He told me as we stopped in front of a huge canvas, leaning heavily against the brick wall. It must have been 8 feet tall and 15 feet wide. I let my eyes move over every inch of it, growing more and more impressed and in awe at each new stroke of color and layer of paint. The paint was thick and heavy and the texture of the whole canvas was rich and rough. Incredible. Discernible shapes and lines in azure blue, emerald green and a bright, sunny gold crashed together in waves of beauty. It was magnificent and I felt myself drawn to it immediately.

"I'm making it for you." I startled and shivered as Edward's voice came from right by my ear, his body having rounded mine and was, again, only inches behind my own. "Ever since I saw you that night I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. Your eyes. Your hair. Your fucking dimpled smile."

I immediately followed the bright blue lines and recognised the colour of my eyes within the canvas. The heat from his body was growing warmer the closer he got to me. I could feel him pressed against the length of me, his warm chest against my back, his fucking hard on against my ass. I shivered and gasped, suddenly feeling bold and intrepid. I pushed experimentally, hearing his breath catch and feeling his hard cock pulse against me. I did it again. Turning my head to meet his eyes I was confronted by emerald pools of lust and hunger.

"Beautiful." I proclaimed, whether about the art or the man behind me neither of us knew. My heart was slamming in my chest and I could feel his own beating wildly against my back, his skin scorching me through the thin fabric of my shirt. I felt confident and sure of myself having him this close, it was as though his own assurance was seeping from him, landing on my skin and sinking into me.

My arms felt heavy and awkward and twitched to wrap around Edward as he slowly brought his lips forward to press at the corner of my mouth. I gasped at the same electricity I'd felt before, slamming through me and making me shudder. I inclined my head, tentatively, to invite his lips against my own. They pressed carefully against mine, igniting me from the tips of my toes upwards and I had no choice but to open my mouth to him. The attraction I felt for him was undeniable. He moved to kiss me more thoroughly, sliding his mouth over mine and parting his soft lips to allow his tongue to peek out from between them. I fucking moaned at the feeling. Exquisite.

I couldn't contain my further groans and gasps as his tongue licked at my bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth, sucking and nibbling gently. Edward moved back around my body to stand before me, grasping my hips with his strong hands and pulling me forward until I was pressed against him, our hips rolling infuriatingly and my aching dick throbbing against his thigh. I could feel his own hardness on my hip, and the thought that I had turned him on had me rolling my eyes back in my head, stretching my neck to give him better access when he ran his lips along my jaw.

"Oh, God." I whispered as he sucked my earlobe into his mouth, flicking it softly with his tongue. He moaned in appreciation and I pushed my hips towards his more eagerly than before.

My hands trailed up his sides, feeling his hot, smooth flesh beneath my fingertips until they met at the nape of his neck, tangling in his short hair and tugging gently at the strands. I urged his mouth back to mine and plunged my tongue inside, tasting his warm flavor and moaning fervently. The shy, quiet man Edward had met at his show was nowhere to be found and I gave as good as I got, passion and confidence soaring through my veins under my skin.

Edward's fingers were digging into the flesh at my sides, grappling with the fabric of my shirt to get to the skin below. My skin was cool from being outdoors and when his fingertips pressed against my hips they felt scorching and fucking glorious. He pulled back from my mouth with a smirk on his face.

"I'm really fucking glad you came, Jasper. I've been fucking obsessed since I met you." I groaned at his words, unable to form a sentence to explain that I'd felt the same way. I was in fucking heaven.

His hands tugged at the fabric of my shirt and urged it up and over my head, I raised my arms to accommodate him and gasped when his tongue and lips lowered to my chest, nipping and licking at the flesh there. His hands began working at the buttons of my fly, fumbling and popping them to push my jeans down my legs. When my pants rested at my thighs his warm hand wrapped around my length and I nearly fucking came undone. The feeling was incomparable as he ran his fingers over my head, gathering the moisture there only to spread it over my throbbing cock. As he sank to his knees below me my legs nearly gave out and I growled loudly through clenched teeth as he took my head between his pink lips.

I couldn't fucking breath as Edward began running his tongue around my length. I gasped and writhed against him, urging him on as he took my cock deep into his mouth. I could feel myself hitting the back of his throat and squeezed my eyes shut at the feeling. Bringing my hands back to his hair, I wrapped the strands around my fingers and guided him gently to the pace I preferred. I opened my eyes and looked down at him. He looked so fucking sexy with his lips around my dick and his eyes on mine. I had to grit my teeth to keep myself from coming already.

I began rocking my hips and pushing my dick into his throat, fucking his mouth, but stopped short when I noticed the balls of his feet against the canvas behind him, spreading huge clumps of blue and yellow paint around as he shifted slightly.

"Edward, your feet. Wait, your art." I gasped, trying to get him to stop so we could move away. He moaned around my dick, causing my stomach muscles to tense and my eyes to clench shut once more.

"Fuck it," he gasped, plunging back down on my dick and swallowing around me as my head entered his throat. I groaned and tightened my grip in his hair. "Spread your legs," He gasped, releasing my dick for just a moment.

I did as he asked, spreading my legs just as the fingers of one hand traced my balls and began to move further back, towards my entrance. I let out a long, low 'fuck' as his finger massaged my entrance and fell forward, bracing my arms in front of me for balance.

I could feel the thick, wetness of the paint under my palms but couldn't find it in me to care that I was ruining his work. He pulled off my dick only to suck his fingers into his mouth, coating them in his saliva then push one inside me, taking in my cock again. I couldn't fucking think of anything other than the feelings he was provoking in me. I opened my eyes to see my fingers and hands covered in paint, dark green and blue coating my skin.

Edward picked up the pace on my dick and I could feel my orgasm coming on hard and fast. This was so much better than my fantasy, he was perfect. He pressed another finger into me and began scissoring, stretching and fucking me vigorously. All at once he added another finger and grazed my prostate and I couldn't hold back the grunt as I came deep in his throat, my ass fucking clenching around his fingers and my own fingers digging into the thick paint on the canvas before me, spreading colors beautifully.

I took a second to catch my breath, panting and hissing as he removed his fingers from my ass. I lowered my hands to help him up off his knees and clutched at his jaw and shoulder as I sucked his tongue into my mouth, tasting myself on him. Edward moaned into my mouth and I felt my dick twitch back to life at the sound of it.

Edward pulled back from my exploration of his mouth, gasping and panting. "Fucking hell Jasper. You taste incredible."

I hummed in response, pouting as he pulled away from me entirely and moved quickly towards the bedroom area. I watched from the centre of the huge room as he opened a drawer and pulled out a few items. A small bottle and a foil packet. Gulping heavily, nervous and excited, my eyes were trained on him as he sauntered back towards me. He stopped before me, pushing off his jeans and underwear. His body was strong and lightly muscled, his dick long and hard and pulsing as I moved to wrap my hand around it, leaning in to kiss him again. His face was covered in the paint from my hands, his shoulders, chest and dick marked with my hand prints and from the grips of my fingers. He looked amazing.

He took a second to look at the canvas before him, noticing the hand prints I'd formed in the middle and the smudges his feet had caused and his eyes widened and lit from within. He chuckled to himself, moving behind me and raising my arms to lean my forearms against the painting. I spread my legs as he pressed his body against mine, and I could feel his rock hard cock nestled between the cheeks of my ass. A cold liquid slid down to my entrance and his warm fingers began massaging me, preparing me.

I held my breath in anticipation and hissed loudly as the head of his dick entered me excruciatingly slow.

"God, you feel fucking incredible. I've been thinking about this for days. Fuck." The string of babbles continued as Edward slid all the way inside me; he told me how good I felt, how amazing I looked and how as soon as he saw me he wanted me. My heart soared with each new mumble, coming to life in my chest. He kept pushing forward until our balls were touching and steadied himself inside me to allow me to adjust to his size. He felt amazing inside me, filling me completely and making me his. His cock felt massive and so fucking hard and I was panting and groaning with every tiny movement we made together. When I felt ready to move I pushed back against him ever so slightly, giving him my signal to start. Edward squeezed my hips gently, pulling almost all the way out of me before slamming back in.

"Oh, Edward. Fuck." I moaned wantonly, completely engrossed in the feeling of him inside of me.

I couldn't think straight. I couldn't breathe. Nothing in my life had ever felt this good. This real. Every time I'd been fucked before meant nothing to me now. I could feel every flawless inch of Edward as he kept up his pace, pulling out and thrusting back in. My head fell forward to lay against my arms and I shuddered every time he hit my prostate, causing the muscles in my ass and stomach to tighten.

Edward was moaning behind me, his grip on my hips tightening as he pressed his chest against the flat of my back. Kissing and licking at my neck and shoulders, his rhythm never faltering. I pushed my ass back into him with each of his thrusts and could feel my balls tightening once again.

"I never knew it could feel this good." I moaned as Edward took a nip at the back of my neck, pausing to lap at the beads of sweat forming there. "I've never felt this before."

He gasped at my words, slowing his pace and moving deeply inside me.

"I know, baby." He purred in my ear, sincerity dripping from his every word. His voice sounded reverent and pure. "Jesus, Jasper. I know."

I moaned, my heart filled to bursting at his words. He felt it too? The burning fire of every touch. The inexplicable push and pull between us, drawing us closer and closer together. Now that I knew what it felt like to be so close to him, I never wanted to fucking leave.

His hips started rocking more quickly against me. The heat against my back was replaced by cool air as Edward moved one hand from my hip to grip my shoulder and use the leverage to thrust hard and fast into me. My vision went fuzzy and I could hear the pumping of my blood through my veins, loud as a freight train in my ears. My back was arching against him and his balls were slapping against mine with every thrust. The coiling in my stomach lowered and tightened and soon my balls were tingling, I was so fucking close.

"Come with me Jasper, baby. Come."

Edward's voice was strained behind me and I could hear the longing and aching in it. I pushed off of the canvas, keeping one arm braced for support and closed my fist around the head of my dick. I was going to come and by the way my balls were fucking throbbing I knew it was going to be harder than I'd ever come before. I didn't want to explode over Edward's painting so I let my palm cover my cock just in time to come inside it. I was shaking and shuddering as my whole body seemed to clench with the force of my orgasm. I barely registered Edward stilling behind me, cursing and whispering my name like a prayer as he came inside me.

His whole body slumped against mine, forcing my arms and upper chest against the canvas before he slid out of me and slumped to the floor. He pulled at my thighs lazily until I was sitting in front of him, his thighs surrounding mine and his arms around my waist. I laid my head back on his shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of his lips on the side of my neck. His warm breath was spreading goosebumps over my heated flesh and I shivered causing his arms to tighten around me.

"That was -" Edward began, reverently, seemingly unsure of how to finish. His panting breaths were loud in my ear and when he nuzzled his face in the crook of my shoulder everything felt right.

"Fucking unbelievable." I finished for him.

Chuckling happily he nodded his agreement into the skin of my neck, kissing softly and flicking his tongue over my flesh. It felt incredible. I felt incredible. For the first time in months, maybe even in years I felt alive. My heart felt light in my chest and I couldn't contain the grin on my face. Edward had made me feel these things, and not just with the mind numbing orgasms he'd given me but with the way he touched me and the cheery smile that seemed permanently stuck on his face. With the way his own light and happiness projected onto me and seemed to sink under my skin.

I opened my eyes from the haze of pure bliss I was cocooned in to see the blues and greens smudged and smeared where my arms and chest had pressed against it. I looked to my hands, covered in thick paint, and sighed softly, linking my fingers with Edward's. I turned my head and was met with his beautiful green eyes piercing into mine, his jaw and neck covered in his paint and I'd never seen anything more beautiful.

"I think we ruined your painting," I whispered against his soft lips, loving the grazing of warm flesh on warm flesh.

Edward lifted his face from mine, gazing at the huge canvas intently. "I think we made it better." He said seriously, I watched as his eyes flitted over the places where my hand prints could be seen and where my chest had pressed against it. "It's yours if you want it."

I imagined coming home to this every day. To a reminder of this afternoon and of Edward. Seeing the places where his body had moved against mine and where my skin had taken off the paint he'd worked hard to place there. I could see myself spending hours looking at the blues he'd taken from my eyes and the green he'd taken from his own, the gold of my hair and the pink of my lips. It made me feel warm and light, knowing that no matter what happened now I would always have this reminder.

I'd found what I was looking for; something to make me feel alive and passionate. Something to spark some emotion within me. Something to take away the blank, void spaces in my life. And I'd found it in this cocky, humble, beautiful man. I'd found it in Edward.

I looked back at him, meeting his eyes and hoping to portray admiration and sincerity in mine. "It's a work of art." I leaned forward and captured his bottom lip between my teeth, running my tongue along it languidly, enjoying his taste and every feeling he was still awakening in me. "It's a fucking masterpiece." I whispered.

**Thank you to everyone who voted for this story in the contest and to my brilliant beta who held my hand the whole way. I'm so honoured to have won; there were some really great stories entered. Check out my banner on my profile page, it's awesome. And leave me a wee review to let me know what you thought. Pretty please?**


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